


frostbite

by maureenbrown



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Butterbeer, F/F, Femslash, Hogwarts, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maureenbrown/pseuds/maureenbrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maureen fidgets in her seat, sweat lining her forehead as she sits in The Three Broomsticks’ rough chairs, the wood ebbing into her dark skin and probably giving her thighs splinters. She can’t tell if she’s perspiring due to her date having not shown up yet, or if it’s the bustling energy of the pub, Hogwarts students and magical folk alike moving continuously around her, as constant as the world turning, however much faster.</p><p>There’s a waitress that stops by her table a couple times, giving her a perplexed look that Maureen attempts to avoid. She’s alerted her that her date is in fact coming, but as she glances down at the watch attached to her wrist she’s starting to feel less and less assured.</p><p>Finally, there’s a ringing of a bell that sounds over the noisy commotion of the residents resounding in the room, and Maureen head snaps towards the direction of the door. There stands Clary in all her glory, snow dusting her blazing hair, her pale skin bright and warm brown eyes darting around the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	frostbite

**Author's Note:**

> this writing was so forced rip me  
> my tumblr is @newtslizzy ;)

Maureen fidgets in her seat, sweat lining her forehead as she sits in The Three Broomsticks’ rough chairs, the wood ebbing into her dark skin and probably giving her thighs splinters. She can’t tell if she’s perspiring due to her date having not shown up yet, or if it’s the bustling energy of the pub, Hogwarts students and magical folk alike moving continuously around her, as constant as the world turning, however much faster.

There’s a waitress that stops by her table a couple times, giving her a perplexed look that Maureen attempts to avoid. She’s alerted her that her date is in fact coming, but as she glances down at the watch attached to her wrist she’s starting to feel less and less assured.

Finally, there’s a ringing of a bell that sounds over the noisy commotion of the residents resounding in the room, and Maureen head snaps towards the direction of the door. There stands Clary in all her glory, snow dusting her blazing hair, her pale skin bright and warm brown eyes darting around the room. 

Maureen feels her chest sigh, taking in Clary’s muggle attire (most of it, anyway—she’s wearing a dark blue sweater and brown jeans that cling to her legs complete with fuzzy boots) and Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck. Her features are as breathtaking as the frost that surrounds them, and Maureen has to remind herself to lift a hand and wave the girl over.

The crowd around her parts like the sea, some turning their heads to glance at her, then enviously at Maureen as she approaches. She can’t remember feeling prouder—though there was that one time when she caught the snitch for her Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Both times were memorable.

“Hey!” Clary says, her pink tainted lips curling up in a smile as she plops herself down into the booth, sliding across from Maureen and shedding off her scarlet gloves, discarding them to her side and crossing a leg over the other. “I’m so sorry I was late, Simon held me up.”

Maureen nods understandingly, forcing herself to relax her shoulders and appear less tense. She folds her hands on top of the table, smiling shyly at her across the table. “I’m glad you came.” 

“Yeah, the snow was kind of a problem, too.” Clary says, slumping in her chair slightly. “Did you have to wait long?”

Honestly? Yes. Maureen doesn’t think telling Clary that she’d sat there for around half an hour because she’d arrived too early, but she doesn’t think lying is a good option either.

Maureen nearly smacks her head against the table in exasperation. Dates are hard and she’s taken so long to answer.

“Not too long.” She opts for answering, and Clary’s somewhat worried expression dissolves.

Before either girl can speak again, the waitress swings by their table once more, beaming now that she sees Clary and lifting her wand to magic out a notepad. “Anything I can get you two?” She asks.

“A butterbeer for me.” Clary orders, holding a hand up to gesture to Maureen. 

“I’ll get the same.” Maureen says, her voice considerably meeker than Clary’s.

The woman nods to affirm their order, her wand flicking once to send the message through the notepad before she whisks off to snatch up some butterbeer to deliver it to another set of customers.

“So, how has Quidditch been going?” Clary asks genuinely, her fingernails that are painted house colors drumming against the table in a way that makes Maureen want to reach out and place a hand atop hers to get her to quiet.

“It’s been going pretty fine. I’ve started trying out what being a Chaser is like, and I actually kind of like it. Jace showed interest in being a Seeker, and he might be elected the official one.” Maureen replies, and Clary’s eyebrows raise.

“Wow, your team’s a lot more understanding than Gryffindor’s.” She comments, seeming mildly and subtly impressed. 

“I guess so. How’s your artwork going?” Maureen asks, leaning forward slightly, hoping her expression is as earnest as she feels.

Clary’s expression immediately brightens up, and Maureen’s sure her eyes have alternated to a nice honey color with the subject change. “It’s going really well actually! Since it’s the holidays, there’s so much more to draw and paint. The mistletoe, the Christmas trees, all the gifts, the fireplace… The Gryffindor common room is a nice place to be.” 

“Did you bring your sketchpad?” Maureen asks, her voice somewhat louder. Clary’s excitement has fueled her own, and the more she rambles the more her stomach bursts.

Clary props herself up on one of her legs, pulling the bag off of her shoulder decorated with pins of her favorite Quidditch teams, sliding a large pad out of it a moment later and passing it to Maureen across the table. Maureen knows she doesn’t often share her drawings with people, and she’s thankful she’s not able to blush. 

Clary doesn’t bother telling her to be careful, she knows Maureen will keep the art safe. Maureen flips through the pages taking her time, her eyes widening comically at some pictures, and she can see Clary beaming through her peripheral vision. 

“These are gorgeous.” Maureen says finally once she reaches the end of the booklet, closing it gingerly and handing it back to Clary, their fingertips brushing in the exchange. 

“Thanks! It took me a while, this is just one of them. I have a couple others at home, but I keep this one around for inspiration.” Clary explains, pausing while her cheeks flush a shade darker. “Maybe… Maybe I could draw you sometime.”

Maureen stops herself barely from letting her jaw drop to the table, recovering and nodding quickly and intently. “I’d really love that.” She musters, and Clary’s smile grows impossible bigger.

The landlady appears with their drinks, setting them down in front of Maureen, waiting for the girl to fish some galleons out of her pocket, handing her a couple and giving her a grateful smile. 

Maureen drops her purse back into her lap, her hands shaking slightly with how giddy she is. She reaches to pull her own butterbeer towards her, her other hand moving to hand Clary hers.

Clary shoots her hand out at the same time, and Maureen accidentally smacks her fingertips against the rim of the glass, and for one slow motion moment, the drink tips and collides with the old wooden table.  
Maureen watches in horror as the remnants of the butterbeer spill in Clary’s direction, and to think, this date had been going so well.

Clary blinks a couple times, and there’s a bit of liquid splattered on her neck and nice cheekbones. Her sweater’s soaked and damp, and the rest of restaurant exuberates white noise. 

A sound comes from the back of Maureen’s throat, the beginning of an apology, and Clary sits there, her face downcast so she can’t see her expression. She’s always known Clary is quick to anger, and she’ll probably be infuriated in front of the entire restaurant.

Before Clary can even begin to yell, Maureen finds her voice. “I’m so sorry! That was so clumsy of me and this entire time I’ve been so damn nervous, I just really wanted this date to go well and then I went and spilled butterbeer all over you!” She bursts, her hands clenched at her sides. She really hopes she doesn’t get choked up in front of Clary.

To her surprise, Clary sits up slightly, a tiny smile on her face due to her confession. “You were nervous?” She asks, sounding surprised.

“Uh, yeah? I was kind of rambling this entire time. Bloody hell, I’m so sorry.” Maureen apologizes again, and a quiet giggle makes its way past Clary’s lips despite her sopping state.

“I was scared, too.” Clary admits, shaking out her sweater and splattering Maureen slightly. The butterbeer is still warm, but Maureen suspects she deserves it.

“You? Scared?” Maureen asks incredulously, and Clary nods.

“Maureen, you’re super cute. Do you know the power you hold?” Clary inquires, and her old grin is back, upturned on the right more than the left in an adorably quirky way. She must have splashed some butterbeer on her heart, because it feels like its melting.

“Please.” Maureen manages, her laugh somewhat shaky, and Clary joins her.

Eventually, Clary’s mirth dies away and she stands up, and Maureen clambers after her with a moment of hesitation. “We should probably get back, I need to get changed.”

“We?” Maureen asks, praying she doesn’t sound too excited. 

“Yeah, we. I’m not going to let this—“Clary gestures down at the mess Maureen made earlier—“Stop our date.” She stops for a moment, raising her eyebrow. “Unless you want to call it a day.”

“No. No way.” Maureen responds a bit too quickly, reaching out in a bout of buoyancy to take Clary’s hand, earning herself a smile. 

“Good. Let’s go.” Clary says, swinging their hands slightly as she guides Maureen towards the door. 

…

The rest of the date goes surprisingly well, and Maureen succeeds in not spilling anything on Clary’s lap for the rest of the night. They sit huddled by the fire located in the Gryffindor common room, which turns out to be just as homely as Maureen had expected.

Clary leans in to rest her head on top of Maureen’s shoulder, the blanket wrapped around their shoulders staying snug. Making the second mistake of the night, she leans in to press a kiss to her cheek, accidentally placing one on her lips when Maureen happens to turn her head.

Clary’s canine nibbles into Maureen’s lower lip slightly, and the other girl wraps an arm around her waist securely. She tastes like snow.


End file.
